Infiltrating the oil rig had been too easy. It was lightly guarded by Al Qatala soldiers, perhaps no more than fifty men patrolling the decks. Soap took point as the team advanced on the helipad on the top deck, Graves and NAG firing over their shoulders at the remaining handful of tangos. "That's the container just ahead!"

Graves looked around wildly and took a steadying breath. "Looks like we're clear. Gold Eagle, this is Shadow 0-1, approaching the container now." He motioned the others to stand back as Soap reached for the door.

Strange. When he unlatched the handle, the inside sounded hollow. The door fell open and so did his mouth.

Philip shoved past him, staying in disbelief. "Oh no..."

"Where are the controls..?"

"They must be on that ship," said Novaleen, looking at the massive craft bobbing in the pitching waves as the rain lashed against her sides.

With a growl, Graves tapped the com. "Gold Eagle, we have a problem, the missile is armed, the controls are on the ship."

"You have your orders, son," replied Shepherd. "Stop that launch."

He nodded stiffly. "Alejandro, take overwatch, Soap, Novaleen, you're with me. We're moving to that ship."

Soap wasted no time bailing over the side of the rig with a rappelling rope, landing in the boat waiting for them below. As the pilot revved the engine, Ghost tapped into the com. "All stations! Visual on the missile controls, on the bridge! I say again, missile controls are on the bridge."

"Copy that!" Graves gripped the pilot's seat and pointed ahead. "Let's go! Let's go! Move out! Ghost, this is 0-1, back in the water. Inbound to your position."

"Solid copy! We're taking effective fire! The LZ will be hot!"

Novaleen's eyes were glued to the bridge on the ship, searching for signs of fire, her stomach rolling with each rough wave that jostled the boat. She wasn't even listening to Soap and Philip talking, nor did she notice how quickly they approached the ship. In the blink of an eye, they were crashing into the ship's ramp, sending all of them flying into the water.

She shakily rose up onto her feet, sneezing water from her nose and ringing it from her strawberry-blonde braid. With a thud, she leaped to the deck of the ship and promptly flung her arms out to her sides to catch her balance as the ship pitched sideways.

"NAG!" Graves barely caught himself on his own sliding feet. "Stay clear of those shipping containers!"

Soap ducked under a shot that just missed his head and fired back at an AQ soldier. "Containers are the only cover we have!"

"Just don't get caught between them!"

She gripped her rifle tightly and looked to the bridge, planning a clear route to it. Novaleen shot at two men taking aim at her before all of them went sliding the other direction. She managed to fall to a kneeling position and let gravity push her behind cover.

When she moved again, an enemy soldier descended on her from atop one of the containers. She shrieked feeling his weight on her shoulders and writhed, getting one arm free to grasp the man by his shirt collar and pulled his face down to the deck. His balance fell forward and she rolled him off her, pulling the trigger at point-blank range to blow his brains across the deck.

As she was catching her breath, she heard the creak of the container behind her and looked back to see it coming for her. Novaleen turned to escape the other way only to find her shoulder against another container. Her mind went blank and she felt her blood run cold. She couldn't even move in time as it closed in.

Fuck.

Her feet were ripped out from under her and she landed on the wet deck. A heavy body landed on top of her and she yelped. They were both sliding and came to rest against the side of the ship. Dazed, she looked into Ghost's face and felt her stomach drop.

"What did Graves say about getting between those things?!"

She was shaking and looked back at the containers, feeling bile rise in her throat at the sight of the man she had killed pinched between them, his intestines spewing out of his crushed chest cavity like long, grey snakes. "I didn't... I wasn't trying to..." She could hardly catch her breath to speak. "I was stuck in a fight, and I-"

He grabbed her face with one massive hand and squared it to his. "Take a breath, Novaleen, get your head clear. And don't make me have to save you again." Ghost picked her up onto her feet and pushed her forward, walking after her with his rifle's sights to his eye. "Get up on one of those containers! It'll give you a vantage point."

Novaleen leaped up, grabbing the edge of a container and she lifted herself to its top. She turned back and grabbed his hand, straining to pull him up as the ship shifted again. Around them, there was a swarm of tangos, howling and scrambling across the deck. She unloaded a magazine on several of them, kneeling to reload while Ghost covered her.

"Alright, the ship is about to roll again," said Ghost over the clatter of the rain. "When it does, jump to the next container. We'll keep doing that until we get to the bridge. You ready??"

She nodded and when the container began to slide, she jumped. Novaleen felt herself starting to fall but caught herself and looked to the next container. Ghost's hand was on her back, waiting for the right moment, and he nudged her forward, staying close behind.

They finally made it to the bridge, Soap and Graves stacking up with them at the door. Philip gave Soap a firm nod, and the Sergeant planted a charge on the door. They got back and with the push of a button, the door came open with a bang. Soap charged in first, firing at a couple of soldiers inside, and Graves followed him, keeping an eye over his back.

Novaleen stayed close beside Ghost, watching down the corridors for any movement. As they walked, Ghost's hand fanned out in front of her, pressing against her so he could step in front. "What?" He stared intensely down one hall, his breaths coming to a halt, and the hairs on her arms stood up. "Ghost, what do you see?"

He finally let out a muted breath and carried on. "Clear. Push up." He took a quick glance back at her, flicking up and down along her form, before facing the direction of Graves and Soap.

Finally, they were in the upper room of the bridge and beyond the door were the controls. Soap gunned down the four men standing guard and barged in, looking over the controls in wonder. "Clear..."

"Good work, Soap." Graves swept past him and found a tablet, tapping rapidly on the screen. "C'mon, baby... C'mon, baby... C'mon, baby..." A moment of silence and his face screwed up. "Fuuuck. We can't disarm it."

Ghost's eyes rounded. "Why?"

"It's too late..." He looked back across the water at the oil rig, letting his arms fall to his sides.

Philip was explosive when he was frustrated, especially when things were going wrong, and as rough as he could be, he could never stomach standing by when his people's lives were on the line. But instead, he was calm, which was perhaps even more alarming to Novaleen. She stepped beside him, brushing his arm with hers. "Philip, can't we enter some abort codes?"

"No," he growled, sharply turning away from her. "That window's closed." He tapped the com, his eyes still on the rig. "Gold Eagle Actual, this is Shadow-1. Missile's in boost phase, about to burn, how copy?"

Shepherd was equally calm when he replied. "Solid, Shadow. If we can't disarm, then we detonate."

She widened her eyes at him. "Detonate..?"

"Roger that, Actual. Stand by..." He turned back to the Sergeant. "Soap, get on the controls-- We're gonna have to do this together. Now the clock is ticking, so we gotta move, brother. Alright?"

Soap's blue eyes were glassy with worry and he couldn't take them from where Alejandro and his men were providing overwatch with the rest of Shadow Team. Detonating that missile was risky with their men over there, and he felt a pit of dread knot up his gut.

"It's a two-man job, Soap," said Graves, regaining his attention. "Tap in and let's get this done. Yeah?"

The Sergeant hesitated and locked eyes with Ghost. "Get on the box, Soap," said the Lieutenant. "That's an order."

He gulped and keyed in. "Graves..." Soap slowly lifted his eyes. "We're about to take out that rig with the missile. Alejandro's back there with the Shadows..."

Ghost tapped the com before Graves could respond. "All Stations, clear the rig now, I say again- Clear the rig!!"

Graves licked his dry lips and gritted his teeth, forgetting he didn't have a piece of gum in his mouth. "Alright, we need it in diagnostic mode so I can bypass the login. Soap, hit the 'Clear' and 'Mode' keys at the same time."

Novaleen watched tensely from her place by the window. "Come on... Come on..."

"Hit 'Excecute'."

With a loud roar, they all looked out the window. Ghost swallowed nervously. "Missiles away..."

BOOM!

The oil rig erupted in a bloom of white flames, and a shockwave rippled the waters, pushing the ship almost on its side. Philip's eyes brightened with a giddy smile. "Look at that big, bad, beautiful SHIT!" He tapped the com. "Alejandro, you okay?"

"That was fucking CRAZY!" Alejandro laughed from the end of the line. "You guys good?"

"All good here, hermano," replied Soap with a tired smile.

"Golde Eagle Actual, Shadow-1. Good hit. Good hit. Missile and rig destroyed."

Shepherd sounded proud. "Good work, team. Get off that X and go home. Soap, Ghost- Thanks for a job well done."